


The Red Rift

by Katterpillar19



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 12:49:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2773580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katterpillar19/pseuds/Katterpillar19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I thought you know who (not Voldemort) would have tried a few more nasty tricks, so I wrote one. Not part of the main story, but trying to link with it. Follows on from Tea Can Help. Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lure

Josephine was the last to arrive, having been in the middle of negotiations with some faction or other of the Orlesian court. She took her place at the table, and Cullen passed on the report.  
"As our resident fade rift, time travel, and red lyrium experts, I wanted you to attend to provide any insight into what this new 'red rift' might be." He addressed Solas, Dorien and Varric, the latter of whom shook his head.  
"If I'm the best we can do for resident red lyrium expert, we're in more trouble than I thought."  
"Everything helps," Leliana said, "It may be you know more than you realise."  
"In any case, I imagine the better handle we can get on this before the Inquisitor's return, the better chance she has of closing it and ending the threat." Cullen agreed.  
"Do we know if there are several red rifts, or is this the only one?" Josephine asked, taking a small red counter and placing it on the map, amidst the hundreds of green counters already in place. Due to the scale of the map, it looked unnervingly close.  
"I have not had any report of red rifts from my network," Leliana replied, frowning, "although its proximity to Skyhold could represent some form of attack specific to us."  
Solas spoke up, "I am not sure what it could be. In all my time traversing the fade I have never come across _red_ tears in the veil. In fact the veil invariably manifests itself as green when it is torn. I have never seen otherwise."  
"The same with time travel, Dorian agreed. "Since Alexis was using the fade - and the breach - to manipulate time, the portals he used were always green as well."  
"That leaves red lyrium," Varric grimaced. "Why, every time I think it can't get any worse, it suddenly does? Maker curse me for finding the damned stuff in the first place."  
"So it could be red lyrium?"  
Varric looked at Solas, "Do you think combining red lyrium with the magic required to tear open a rift would cause it to change colour?"  
He shrugged, "I could not say. I think we need to inspect this red rift ourselves to find our answers."  
Cullen nodded. "Take Cassandra and Iron Bull with you. If it acts like a normal rift it may start spewing demons at you if you get too close."  
"The Inquisitor is likely to be back tomorrow afternoon," Leliana said, "So if you can, try to return before then."

As it happened, the five companions had not returned before Evelyn, Blackwall, Sera and Vivienne stomped through the gates. Vivienne looked disgusted - she practically threw her reins at the waiting soldier before storming off, muttering to herself about baths, civilization, and the need for all bogs to be filled in with sand.  
Sera, indefatigable as always, chuckled as she slapped Blackwall on the shoulder. "Pint first? I'm more thirsty than dirty, and that's sayin' something!"  
"Thanks, but I think I'll be hitting the baths as well. This mud gets everywhere and I don't want to get barred from the Herald." And so saying he followed the Enchanter up the steps.  
As Evelyn shook her head to decline, she caught sight of Cullen hurrying down from his tower office steps and immediately went a bright shade of pink.  
"Shit!"  
Sera followed her gaze and immediately broke in to raucous laughter. "Oh, Inquisitor! Really? Jackboots? This is perfect!"  
"Shut up! Distract him or something - I stink of bog mud and horses-"  
"Sorry, Ev, but this I've gotta see. Hey, Cullen!" Sera waved manically, "Guess who's back!"  
Cullen, who had by now nearly reached them, gave a confused half wave, the enthusiastic greeting having put an expression of bewilderment on his face.  
"Er... hello, Sera. Glad you made it back in one piece. Inquisitor? There's something you need-" as he reached them he recoiled involuntarily at the stench emanating from both women. "Ah. Perhaps you would like to... wash... first? I can leave the report on your desk. I, er, I'll be in the tower when you're ready." He gave an awkward bow and retreated the way he had come.  
"Cor, your face! If I had an egg I could cook it!"  
" _Shuttup_." Evelyn growled through clenched teeth.

Over an hour later - really, the bog mud was almost impossible to shift, and mixed with gore from putrid corpses made it worse, and had required two refillings of the bathtub - Evelyn had wrapped her hair back in a braid, dressed in new _beautifully_ clean clothes, and read the report Cullen had left in her room. Now she was standing outside his, report in hand, wondering if it was possible to blush any more than she already was. At least she didn't stink of dead people marsh this time but _Maker_ couldn't she catch a break?  
She entered at Cullen's terse invitation to find him standing, head bowed, over a sheaf of papers spread across his desk.  
"I could come back later if you're busy," she said hesitantly.  
Cullen jumped and looked up. "No. Sorry I was just... it doesn't matter." He smiled slightly. "Do you feel better?"  
Evelyn grinned, relieved he hadn't tried to ignore her earlier embarrassment. "Maker yes! If I never see another marsh again it will be too soon."  
"Well, the detachment of troops you rescued arrived at the castle yesterday, looking tired and smelling worse. But alive, thanks to you. Well done."  
She was blushing again. Dammit. "Thanks."  
"Along with a rather confused looking Avvar warrior. Your doing, I assume?"  
"I meant it when I said we can't be picky in our choice of allies. The breach in the sky is everyone's problem."  
"I agree. And he has already proved invaluable-"  
Cullen broke off as a scout entered the chamber. "Missive, Commander." He placed a report in Cullen's outstretched hand and left.  
Evelyn smiled. "Would you like to take a break? Get out of this room for a bit?"  
He hesitated. "I... would like that. A walk on the battlements?"

 

(At this point the main storyline kicks in, until Wicked Eyes Wicked Hearts)


	2. The Trap

They said their farewells in his bedchamber, before the rising sun touched the castle tower. Nothing had changed, really - she had gone on many missions, had been away for weeks at a time, and he knew it was necessary.  
Yet everything was different.  
 _Cullen. Do you have to ask?_  
He watched as she laced up her boots, specially crafted for the occasion to help fight demons, and reached his hand for the small of her back.  
 _I love you. You know that, right?_  
She turned and smiled at him, slightly sadly. "It has to be dealt with. It's too risky leaving one open so close to Skyhold, and-"  
"I know. I know. But I wish it didn't have to be you."  
"Who else? And it's only a small rift. I've done this dozens of times." She leaned over and pressed her forehead to his, her hand to his cheek. "I'll be fine. And I'll be back tonight."  
He kissed her softly on the lips, nodded, and sat back. As she withdrew her hand he caught it gently and kissed the inside of her wrist.  
"Come back to me, Inquisitor."  
"Always."

The small party left Skyhold as the sun rose. Although they anticipated only a short ride to the site of the rift, Evelyn had ensured they had packed the necessities for a night on the mountain - a canvas tent, supplies, spare lyrium. After all, they had no idea whether this rift would close as the others had, or how many demons it would spew forth. The normal ones were unpredictable; this one was an unknown.  
Cassandra rode beside her across the long, narrow skybridge. Ideal for defense, its either side dropped hundreds of feet to the icy ravine below, and made Evelyn slightly nervous each time she crossed. She was glad to have the stalwart seeker at her side - it somehow seemed to make the wind feel less like it was trying to blow her over the side.  
"I went to see Commander Cullen last night." Cassandra said, offhandedly. "I wanted to talk to him about his plans for aiding the Templars' lyrium withdrawal when this is all over. Or, rather, to see how he was coping with so much lyrium around the castle."  
"Oh?" Evelyn made an heroic attempt to sound casual.  
"I was surprised to find he had retired so early."  
"Yes, he normally works late."  
"I suspect he did not get a good night's sleep though."  
"No?"  
"Oh, for crying out loud, Seeker!" Varric interrupted from behind. "Just ask her, already!"  
"I don't know what you mean, Varric."  
"She means, Inquisitor, that she had money on the two of you finally doing something about this will-they-won't-they situation after you got back from the ball. And she wants to find out if she's right."  
"You were betting on it?"  
"Aha! So I _was_ right!"  
"Andraste's tits, Inquisitor," Dorian cursed, "you couldn't have danced around each other for another week?"  
"What - you too? All right - how many people were in on the pool?"  
Cassandra smirked. "Enough for me to buy that new palfrey I've had my eye on."  
"I feel like I should put a stop to this sort of thing."  
"Well, it has stopped now," Dorian grumbled.  
"Hmm. Well, drinks are on Cassandra when we get back then."  
"How about a game of Wicked Grace?" Varric suggested, "It'll give us the chance to wipe that smirk off her face."  
"I'm in. But only if our enchanting Inquisitor goes into all the _sordid_ details of her interlude with one very handsome, very serious Commander..." Dorian sighed.  
"I would have thought your _sordid_ imagination could provide all the details."  
The four of them contined their banter for several hours, by which time the sun was well risen and Evelyn felt much calmer about what was to come next.  
As they neared the site of the rift, they could see Solas sitting by the road, his horse beside him.  
"Greetings, Inquisitor."  
"Hi Solas. Anything else I need to know?"  
"It is strange. I do not sense the presence of red lyrium, yet I cannot think what else could merge and change the nature of the rift this way." He looked angry, as though his inability to figure out the problem was a personal failing. "I am sorry, Inquisitor."  
"It's not your fault, Solas." Evelyn dismounted and tied her horse's reins to the same branch as Solas' bay mare. "Anyone got any bright ideas? No? Right then."  
At that, each member of the party readied themselves for what was, by now, a familiar routine.  
She nodded, once, and the party split up. Cassandra, her sword and shield at the ready, began moving towards the eerie red light. Varric, Dorian and Solas followed in a broad pattern, dividing themselves so as to prevent an area attack hitting all of them at once. Evelyn skirted them all and approached the rift from the side. As she did so, the customary spitting sound started, and she braced herself for running into the centre, relying on her comrades in arms to deflect or distract anything which emerged.  
They had learned, through painful trial and error, that any demons emerging from the rift seemed somehow disabled once Evelyn had partly closed the breach. She began to run towards the centre.  
 _Please not one of those bloody terror demons!_  
As she neared the rift she held out her hand, the one now glowing with green light, and thrust it towards the rift. The bolt of light arched through the air, making a keening wail as it connected with the light in the sky. She was dimly aware that there were no demons surrounding her, not even a wraith was attacking her from a distance before Cassandra could close and protect her.  
 _We're getting seriously good at this._  
"Inquisitor! Stop!" Solas' voice, but dim, as though heard from a different room. She tried to pull her hand back, to cut off the power which was leeching from her body, draining her mana, but found that she could not. She strained against the binding, slight panic setting in as she realised that she was completely drained of magic - powerless, helpless...  
There was an explosion and everything went black.

Varric watched everything as though in slow motion. His position a little further afield than the others gave him an unobstructed view, but he still had trouble understanding what happened.  
There were no demons. That was strange. Cassandra stood at the ready directly below the red rift, turning each direction but seeing nothing to fight. Dorian was similarly confused, standing with his staff pointed at nothing. But Solas seemed to realise something, and turned to shout just as Evelyn was enveloped in the red mist which had spread from the rift towards her outstretched hand. As it touched her she froze. Varric began to run towards her, but as the mist enveloped her completely he was blown backwards off his feet.

Solas was the first to her side - he had thrown up a protective barrier just before the explosion, and had taken no damage from it. As the others staggered over to him they saw that he was kneeling over the prone body of the Herald  
"Maker, no! Is she?" Cassandra limped over and sank to her knees beside him.  
"No, she is not dead." Solas held his hand over her, glowing blue. "I think... I think this was done on purpose. I think it was a booby trap."  
"We should get her back to Skyhold. There is no telling what Corypheus left here to do his bidding after his plan succeeded."  
Dorian, who had downed a healing potion and was now able to stand, nodded and picked her up. Cassandra took rear guard, and they made their way back to the horses in silence.

Cullen had been standing on the battlements watching the skybridge since the sun had started to fall, and he had finally seen a group of five horses enter the forward gate. In the twilight he could barely make out the group, but it looked like the group the inquisitor had set out with earlier that day...  
He tried to maintain a dignified walk down to the bailey, but was almost running by the time he got there, and practically shouted at the guards to open the gate. As the group passed under the portcullis he stopped in his tracks. Something was wrong - the Fereldan mount that normally carried the Inquisitor had an empty saddle, and instead dragged behind it...  
Cassandra dismounted as he ran up and put out her hand to stop him.  
"She is alive," she said tersely, "but Solas thinks she may have been infected with red lyrium. You should not touch her until the mages have examined her mark."  
At the word 'alive' Cullen's knees almost gave way with relief - he tried to push past her anyway.  
"What happened? Is she all right? Is she injured? What happened?"  
Varric approached. "The rift - exploded, we think, it's all a bit..." he ran an exhausted had over his eyes. "No demons came through. Then it was as though she couldn't pull away. Then an explosion, and she was unconscious. We've tried everything we could to revive her but..."  
He stopped as four soldiers passed carrying the makeshift litter. Each one looked distraught - one was openly crying. Cullen recognised her as the leader of the band of troops which had been captured by the Avvar - Evelyn had personally gone to their rescue, saving the lives of her entire band.  
Solas passed with her, holding up a hand to stop Cullen from following. "I believe it would be best if you kept your distance, Commander. Have the healers sent to her quarters - I will join you and the others in the war room when I have news."  
His words seemed to jolt Cullen. "Yes. I will inform Leliana and Josephine. Please... please report as quickly as possible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I may have borrowed the 'betting' thing from another member on here - can't find you though! If you read this let me know who you are so I can attribute the idea x (or if you'd prefer I can delete it, I just loved the concept).


	3. The Rescue

The wait was unbearable. The three advisors had not even made it to the war table, but had stopped when they got to the throne room. It was packed. It seemed that all those not on duty or too sick to move had gathered there, waiting for someone to descend the stairs from the Inquisitor's bedchamber with answers.

To start with, Cassandra, Varric and Dorian had been bombarded with questions. Discussions had broken out all over the hall, with several people declaring that the Herald of Andraste couldn't possibly be taken down before Corypheus was finished. She had survived the Conclave, when thousands had perished - she had survived an avalanche, she had been chosen by the Maker - she could not die. Others wondered whether her luck had finally run out, but they did so quietly. 

Cullen sat beside the fire in total silence. He had listened to Varric's account of events at the rift, his face devoid of all expression, as though it was somebody else steering his body. He felt as though there was a gigantic chasm between himself and everyone else, and took neither comfort nor anguish from the hushed conversations around him.

_Come back to me._

_Always._

He stared into the flames, replaying every conversation with her he could remember - she had asked him once whether he had taken vows of chastity, at exactly the moment he was wondering what it would be like to kiss her, and he had stammered something in reply...

_Always._

Her cheeks dimpled slightly when she laughed. She had rescued a damned goat or some such thing, because its owner had been so sad to lose it. The way her body seemed to melt into his arms when they kissed, on those few stolen moments on the battlements. Always returning with sacks full of healing herbs, because she wanted to save as many lives as possible. Offering to sacrifice herself to get the inhabitants of Haven to safety. And over, over, over again, that one stolen night, aeons ago yet only last night, the scent of her enveloping him, the softness of her skin, the beauty of her voice as she called out his name.

_Always._

He was dimly aware that someone was standing by his chair.

"Would you like to pray with me, Commander?" Mother Giselle laid a hand on his shoulder. 

He looked up, his eyes rimed, and nodded. As Mother Giselle clasped her hands together and began reciting the chant of light, he became aware that a stillness had enveloped the hall. Almost in its entirety, the inhabitants of Skyhold joined in silent prayer for their hero, their saviour, their brave and beloved Inquisitor.

Perhaps the Maker heard so many. As the hall murmured a quiet "amen" and a different sort of quiet fell, the sound of the door opening was like a crack of thunder. Cullen was immediately on his feet, his plea so desperate he could find no words.

"She is sleeping. An enchanted sleep," Solas announced. "Corypheus has dragged her mind into the fade and trapped it there. We will need to enter the fade ourselves to retrieve her - I am not sure she will be able to break out alone."

"Then... she can be saved?" Cullen's voice broke.

Solas nodded. "But I do not think it will be easy. This trap was well devised, and we still have not been able to unravel all the magics we have encountered."

"And... red lyrium?"

"It appears that the power of red lyrium was used to create the trap, but was not part of it."

Cullen waited no longer, but pushed past Solas and took the stairs two at a time to the Inquisitor's bedchamber. He rushed past the mages and healers in attendance and kneeled beside the bed, taking Evelyn's hand in his own and kissing it gently on the wrist. Tears of relief ran down his face, as he reached out and brushed hair from her forehead, cupping her cheek in his hand.

"We will need volunteers," Solas, along with several of the others, had followed the Commander upstairs. "We will need several mages to cast the magic which will send someone into the fade - I cannot go, as I will have to perform the rite."

"I'll go," Cullen said, along with every other person in hearing distance.

Solas nodded. "You should be aware that Corypheus has likely entrapped a demon to create a false reality for her. Normally, demons use what you most desire to keep you in their thrall. But in this instance I think it is her worst fears."

"Why do you say that?" Josephine asked.

"Look at her. In her sleep, she is crying."


	4. The Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not 100% happy with this so it may be subject to change.

The six mages (Solas had had to handpick them from the volunteers, as each and every magic wielder in Skyhold had offered to assist in the ritual) and Solas stood in a kind of semi-circle around the Inquisitor's bed. Dorian, staff in hand, lay beside the bed on a makeshift campbed - as he said, he would rather not fall and break something as he joined Evelyn in her enchanted sleep. Cullen lay at her side, apprehensive. He had never entered the fade while awake; normally the province of mages, Solas believed it may be possible to send him after her, although he was not certain. They would attempt the ritual on Dorian first, using the majority of their power on the best chance, and then try to send him through afterwards.

He was not scared of entering the fade, merely that he would not be able to pass through. It highlighted his fear, his awareness that no matter how much he loved her, there would always be places he could not follow, always be times he could not help. He was reminded of that terrible wait after Haven - freezing, sure their only hope of closing the rifts had died saving her army, despair had settled over them like a miasma, hopelessness, helplessness, until the Maker had performed another miracle and delivered his Herald a route through the mountains. Her own strength had dragged her in the wake of the fleeing army, now little more than refugees themselves, and her survival made her seem that much more divine, that much more untouchable and beyond his love. And he had done nothing more than carry her the last hundred yards, wrapped in his fur cloak, her endurance rendering his assistance almost pointless.

_We need another miracle. SHE needs a miracle. Please, Maker, Andraste, do not abandon us now._

He closed his eyes as he prayed fervently to the deity he had followed all his life. Was a life devoted to the Maker's service worthy of being heard? He would give it, unhesitating, to see her eyes open, to have her back. Even if he passed through the fade to the Maker's kingdom, even if he never heard her laugh again, it would be so small a price for her restoration.

Solas and the other mages had begun the ritual. He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck as the room filled with ethereal magic - blue lights began dancing, and Solas directed the energy towards the Inquisitor. As the blue lights neared her, the mark on her left hand began to splutter. Frowning, Cullen turned, motioning to Cassandra to attend the sight.

More lights, and before he could call out, Evelyn's eyes sprung open in terror, the hand bearing the mark leaped forward, and a shaft of red light burst from it, through the window above the courtyard.

Solas stopped immediately, his eyes staring through the open window. "The anchor! It has created a tear in the veil!"

"Fighters, to me! To the courtyard - destroy anything that comes through!" Cullen said, throwing one last look at Evelyn before scrambling to his feet, drawing his sword and running down the stairs.

As he entered the great hall he could hear screams. There was a flood of people - civilians, refugees, pilgrims, pushing through the doors in terror. As he shoved his way through, calling for the refugees to clear a path for his soldiers, he heard the fighters outside engage whatever had ripped through the rift. When he had begged the Maker to awaken the Inquisitor, he had offered his own life.

He did not offer those of his men.

His mouth set, his back straight, his sword held aloft, he ran down the central steps and into the fray.

Evelyn sat up, her face in shock. "What happened?" Solas spoke hurriedly, as she stood and took the staff proffered by Dorian. "The trap manifests. It appears it was waiting for just such magic as I cast, and triggered the anchor," the group descended to the great hall after Cullen and his warriors, "It forced you to open a rift - in the centre of Skyhold." She broke into a run.

Through the panicked refugees in the main hall, calling out "All those capable, follow us to the rift. Then seal the doors!" She came to a halt at the top of the steps, only a minute behind Cullen. The soldiers were giving an excellent account of themselves - already the upper courtyard was strewn with the bodies of demons, with only a very few uniformed bodies among them. With Dorian and Solas on either side, casting protective barries, dispelling magic and revival spells, she raised her left hand in the familiar motion and winced as the anchor connected to the rift.

As the arc of green light touched the red, a painful rending sound split the air. Evelyn looked on in horror as the rift widened instead of narrowed. Corypheus' trap had not only thrown this Trojan horse into their midst, but had reversed her ability to close it. She staggered backwards and tore her hand from the bridge connecting the anchor to the rift. It stopped growing, but the damage had been done. Now, for every demon slain by the Inquisition forces, two more emerged from the rift. She attempted to cast a protective barrier over a group of four surrounded soldiers, but found that opening the rift had completely drained her of mana; even the crystal at the end of her staff was dull and lifeless. A wordless, strangled cry escaped her as, one by one, the group she had tried to protect were cut down. She glanced swiftly across the bailey - now the battefield - and saw that as the demon army flooded from the rift, the Inquisition forces were falling. Solas was tiring, his magic coming in shorter bursts and weaker, and Dorian had already collapsed, a wisp attack from a distance bringing him down.

As she hefted her staff, ready to use it as a common cudgel since she could do nothing else, a rage demon noticed her and began to climb the steps. It glided eerily towards her and, as Solas collapsed beside her, she steeled herself to take at least one out with her before she went.

_Maker, take me to your side. Though I am in darkness, you are the light. Nothing you have wrought can be destroyed._

_"_ HOLD. SHE IS MINE." A booming voice, familiar and terrifying, carried across the keep. Looking up in shock, Evelyn saw that the portcullis had been opened, and framed in the gateway, the white snow stark in the background, was Corypheus, the Elder One, Magister who would be God, standing at the head of a darkspawn hoarde.

"No!" Cullen, covered head to foot in demon gore and almost unrecognisable, plunged towards the enemy in an attempt to destroy him before he could reach the Inquisitor. "Evelyn! Run!"

And Evelyn, from her perfect vantage point in front of the closed hall doors, watched as the Commander of her army, her stalwart champion, her Templar, was riven in two by Corypheus' hand.

The darkspawn cascaded over the decimated Inquisition army like a tidal wave. The last remaining fighters were hopelessly outnumbered and died quickly, swords raised, a testament to their bravery which was witnessed only by their destruction. No ballads would be sung of the last stand of the Inquisition, there would be nobody left to sing them.

Evelyn swung her staff every direction, hopeless in combat without her powers, never trained and never expecting physical abilities where her magic had always served her. A hurlock alpha, its putrid face grinning at her pathetic swipes, grasped the staff and wrenched it from her hand, snapping it in two before picking her up by the throat. Dimly, she was aware that the doors to the great hall had been blasted open - terrified screams, cut short, as the demon and darkspawn armies revelled in their bloody conquest. The hurlock carried her, kicking, towards its master, and flung her at his feet.

Corypheus bent down, wrenching Evelyn's head back and forcing her to look him in the eye.

"False prophet. Failed Herald. Your Inquisition was destroyed while you stood by and watched. You are nothing."

He leered at her, breathing over her, and she felt a sickess engulf her. "But you will serve. In time, you will be consumed by the blight, and you will wish only to serve me."

So saying, he released her and stood. She collapsed, his words searing through her heart, and with her head bowed she sobbed.  
Corypheus had broken her. Nobody could oppose him now.

Time passed. She was not sure how much, or why she cared. They had driven a pole into the ground in the centre of the upper bailey and tied her to it, her forehead strapped to the post to prevent her bowing her head. For a while, demons and darkspawn had ravaged the keep - the screams, so many at first, had stopped. The infirmary was destroyed, collapsed onto the sick and injured, killing them all outright under the rubble. The Herald's Rest was burning. The magnificent keep, symbol of strength and defiance and victory, was in ruins. Now the place was utterly silent; not a creature had survived the nightmare but she, and even the wind had died. The army had marched through the gates, across the skybridge, on its conquest of the known world, and there had been nothing she could do.

She slumped against her bindings, mind blank, gazing with despair around the courtyard. Her eyes were drawn to some places more than others. Cassandra's body was surrounded by dead demons - she had killed dozens, back to back with Blackwall, until they were finally overwhelmed. Sera, quiver empty, her last arrow notched, although it would never fly. Solas and Dorien, comrades in that final battle, lying where they had fallen on the top stairs, their staffs dull and dead beside them. Varric's humour silenced forever by a darkspawn axe as he tried to defend the front gates, the mysterious Bianca crushed to useless splinters beside him. And Cullen, the Templar she once would have feared, the man she loved - Corypheus had removed his head and dropped it at her feet, his unseeing eyes staring upwards, his lips never to form her name again.

She felt empty. Her chest, which had hurt so much before, was now a gaping wound, as though her heart had been physically removed from her body and tossed aside like so much dross. Nothing came to fill it. Her failure, her fault was too huge for her to comprehend, and her fear of the future too complete to consider. As the sun fell, to end the end of days, she stared at the lifeless bodies of her friends, and realised there was only one thing she could do before she took her own life to rob Corypheus of one useless servant.

She flooded her hands with raw heat, burning the bindings that held her. She burned her hands, too, but she was beyond such matters as mundane as physical pain. Escaping her bonds, she laboriously, slowly, as night fell began to construct a pyre, so that none of her army would be possessed by demons, spared that final insult to their memory.

It took hours. Even with magic, the sheer number of dead was almost impossible for her to move alone. She built the fire from the wooden stables and, once it was blazing, began lifting each soldier, each refugee, into the flames with her power. There was no prayer, no word to Andraste to intercede with the Maker on their behalf. If he had seen, he knew to take them all to his side. And if not, what was the point in prayer? 

Faces blurred. There were so many - so many people she could not even name. The Inquisition had grown so quickly, and she had been so busy... And there was nobody now who could tell her. She would never know the history of this person, or that, or find out why they had joined her fight - were they just afraid? Had they believed her to be a figure blessed by the Maker? Perhaps they sought to increase their standing or wealth, or perhaps they were idealistic and hoping to create a better world. Whatever their reasons, she had failed each and every one of them. They died because she had fallen for the trap, because she had been incautious, because she was a fool. Her shattered mind repeated the same litany over and over as she worked, because it could do nothing else.

 _Sorry. I'm sorry. I -_   

She found Josephine in the great hall, slaughtered as she attempted to protect those gathered inside, two silverite daggers which Evelyn had not known she possessed drawn and covered in ichor. Leliana was in the rookery - her final act had been to release every crow. Perhaps their warning would give Alistair and Celene time to prepare. She may have saved countless lives as she was cut down from behind, no defence and no resistance offered. Vivienne, in the gardens, seemed to have been trying to evacuate more noncombatants. She had failed. Iron Bull and his Chargers, darkspawn littering the ground around them, had stood their ground until the last was slain. And Cole, the enigmatic boy-spirit, torn to pieces and thrown from the world he had only just found.

All into the fire. The demons she ignored, save to ensure that they were removed from the area in which the last of the Inquisition now burned. Taking the staff formerly carried by Solas, she directed white-hot flames to a fallen piece of masonry, shaping it as the heat melted and twisted it to resemble glass. It was all the monument she could create, but she would not leave the pile of ash to blow away in the wind without marking the final resting place of those who, despite overwhelming odds, had stood their ground.

By the time she was done, the pyre was visible for miles, the flames leaping as high as the keep had once stood. Exhausted, hurting, and lost, Evelyn crawled up the ladder to Cullen's bedchamber and wrapped herself in his sheets, his scent surrounding her as she screamed and screamed and screamed at the pain which was bound to her soul.


	5. The Fall

Dorian turned to Cullen, his usually humerous expression grave.

"This looks..."

"Like her worst nightmare."

Solas, with a group of several mages, had just completed the ritual which would send them into Evelyn's dreams. He had given several warnings, one of which made Cullen shiver as he surveyed the demon-strewn bailey and enormous pyre.

_Usually, a demon will entrap a soul by giving it its heart's desire. But in this case, I think it is fear._

_Why?_

_Look at her face. In her sleep, she is crying._

The red rift hanging above the courtyard drenched everything in an unsettling red light, all the more so for what it represented. A breach, within the castle walls. The utter destruction of the Inquisition, the death of every comrade, every friend and ally. The failure to stop Corypheus, leading to the utter destruction of all free life. She bore the weight of this every day, knowing that the price of failure was so complete, and yet being there, seeing it in the flesh, was horrifying beyond the point of reason.

Cullen was very familiar with this nightmare. It was his own as well.

"We need to find her," Dorian said, staring at the flames. His eye was caught by the signet ring on a partially charred hand. He glanced uneasily at his own hand, which bore an identical ring. "Before she does anything... rash."

"Where should we look?" Cullen was staring about for inspiration.

"My dear Commander. Where would you go if you thought you had lost her?"

He closed his eyes in pain. "To where I could be with her memory."

"Your tower."

He nodded and they set off immediately.

"She hurts everywhere. All gone, failure, crushing sadness, it is too much," Cole materialised beside them. 

Cullen jumped, "How did you get here?!"

"I followed. She is going to jump. Hurry!" So saying, Cole began running towards the steps to the battlements. Cullen, uncertain of his meaning but scared of what he did understand, took off after him, Dorian in the rear.

They reached the top, and his heart nearly stopped.

 

She was standing at the edge, arms outstretched, poised to throw herself off the battlements and onto the mountain a hundred feet below. He ran, heart pounding, barely thinking. If they had been seconds later - if Cole had not followed them through and taken them to her - it would have been too late.

At his shout, she turned. Her face was devoid of expression, and she did not seem to see him.

"I have to. He has turned me into a ghoul. We have lost, but I will not serve." She turned back to the sky and put one foot out into nothing.

So close - Cullen reached, his hand caught cloth, dragged, rolling away from the terrible drop. She fought him like a cat, teeth and claws ripping into him as she tried to escape.

"I will not serve! I will die first! _Release me_!"

He tried to restrain her while holding her face to his. "It is me, beloved! Cullen! Don't you see me?"

"No! Whatever foul thing you are you will not take his memory from me!"

Dorian, now standing beside them, gently cast a spell of sleeping. Although they were in the fade, and therefore already asleep, it seemed to have the desired effect, and she quieted in Cullen's arms.

"Take her to your chambers. I will wake her slowly - perhaps she will be calmer." He saw the stricken look on Cullen's face and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We can convince her that this is not real, but... to her mind, she has seen her worst fears come to pass. It may... take time."

"She is in so much pain. She saw us all die. It was her fault, she brought in the rift, and everyone was dead... everyone..." Cole looked as though he was hurting as well.

"Are you - are you all right?" Cullen asked as he picked up the Inquisitor.

"I feel... pain. But in her there is so much. Too much for one mind. It is fractured, like a mirror, smashed on the ground. Pieces that may not be whole again." He looked at Cullen. "You know. You were like that. Taunting images, templars dead, mages possessed as they tortured you. But she healed you."

Cullen nodded. "And now, I heal her."

 

She woke in Cullen's bed, slowly, from a deep and dreamless sleep. She had been free, cold and clear, but then the voices, the demon wearing Cullen's face had stopped her. 

It was in front of her now. It was wearing that expression - the one she had seen on his face before that final mission, the expression which spoke of concern, filled with fear for her.

_How dare you._

She gathered her magic, preparing to incinerate them both in flame, when she felt an odd wrongness, and her spell failed.

"Tut, tut, Inquisitor! We can't have you attacking the head of your armed forces now, can we?"

One was mimicking Dorian now? 

"We are real. This is the fade. We did not die." 

And Cole?

Why?

"It is the truth." Now the demon wearing _his_ face was talking. "The red rift was a trap. They brought you back to Skyhold, and Solas-"

She screamed, curling up, her hands pressed to her ears, as if to block out his words. "No no no! I cannot - you cannot - I will not go back there!"

"He sent us after you!" Cullen shouted above her denials, catching her wrists in his hands and pulling them from her. "The breach here is a lie! This is the fade!"

"Lies! Demons all lie. You twist and turn and trap. I did not fail my Harrowing, you cannot have me!"

"Evelyn!" He released her wrists and caught her face in his hands, turning it to his. His cheeks were wet with tears he did not know were falling, his eyes searched hers for something, any recognition, any sanity.

"Evelyn, my love, my heart. Come back to me."

She froze. Her eyes flickered between his, the hatred and fear which filled them suddenly draining.

"Always?" She whispered. Her hand raised to his, still caressing her cheek, and felt its thumb, its calloused fingers, its palm. Her eyes closed and she threw herself into his arms, burying her head in his shoulder, wrapping herself completely in him as she sobbed in fear, in pain, and in relief.


	6. The Return

Dorian cleared his throat. "Well, as touching as this reunion is, I think we need to find a way out of here."  
Evelyn opened her eyes. Cullen still held her, and his warmth filled her with the strength that had been stolen from her in those last, devastating moments on the battlefield, where all had been lost.   
As she drew back, Cullen kissed her on the forehead. "We think - or Solas does - that Corypheus used a demon to create this nightmare. If we kill the demon, you should be able to wake."  
"So - all that happened after the red rift? It was all a lie?"  
"They brought you back to Skyhold. You were unconscious, freezing cold - Solas had worked out how to send us after you, but just needed the power to send us into the fade. You are lying in your chamber, and all of Skyhold waits for your return."  
"There was no rift in Skyhold? No demons?"  
"None. No darkspawn either."  
"So all of this?"  
"Corypheus tried to destroy you, by destroying all hope."  
Evelyn, still shaking, buried her face in her hands. "He nearly succeeded."  
"But he did not."  
She looked up. "No." She looked at her three rescuers with fire in her eyes. "I was too easily deceived." She paused, her hurt and fear hardening in her heart. "It will not happen again."  
As she stood, Cullen rose with her, and she briefly rested her head on his shoulder. "We are not destroyed. We will triumph."  
"Yes," Dorian said, "and all we need to do is find this demon. Oh, and kill it, of course. Any ideas?"  
Evelyn shook her head. "But we have someone here who might be able to help. Cole?"  
"Yes. I can help." Cole tilted his head to one side, as if listening to a distant sound. "I think we should go back to the courtyard."  
Evelyn nodded. She motioned for him to lead the way, her hand clutching the staff she had left in Cullen's chamber before her attempted jump, the other hand still resting on his shoulder as if to let go would be to see him dissolve into mist. He took it and kissed her fingers as he prepared to descend the ladder to his study - she shuddered, but released him.   
They entered the courtyard. Cole, casting about, looked quizzically at the red rift, still hanging above Skyhold like a curse.  
"I think it's that," he said, pointing.  
"The - the rift?" Evelyn stuttered, "But... I thought it would be something we have to fight? Something... I don't know... demonic?"  
Cole shrugged. "It feels like a demon. But it may be demons inside. I don't know."  
Dorian was frowning. "You've gone a rather sickly shade, Inquisitor. Are you all right?"  
Evelyn shook her head. "When I - when the rift opened in the courtyard, the first thing I did was try to close it." She held out the hand bearing the anchor, which glowed with green light so close to an open rift. "All I did was make it bigger. Corypheus has changed it so it only opens them. I killed... everyone. The rift was so large, there were so many demons, and -"  
Cullen interrupted, "But all of this - the rift, the demons, your anchor - it is all a nightmare created by this demon. It is only here that the anchor doesn't work."  
Evelyn turned to him. "Yes, but it's here we need it to work! And it can't!"  
Dorian was studying the rift, a frown creasing his forehead. "This is going to sound terribly gauche, but what if we just hit it with pointy things?"  
Evelyn looked at him incredulously, but Cole, his head tilted to one side, looked thoughtful. "Yes. Then maybe the demon will come out."  
Cullen shrugged, unsheathing his sword. "Might as well. On three?"  
Dorian unhitched his staff, standing in the traditional fighting stance of the mage, and nodded readiness. Cole vanished in a puff of blue smoke, and Evelyn knew he was closing on the rift from behind. She shrugged, and gathered her mana, preparing to unleash a fireball.  
"Three," Cullen shouted, and ran towards the rift.  
As he swung his sword into the red glow, a fierce screech rang out across the courtyard. As Evelyn watched, the rift seemed to coalesce and flow into the shape of a fear demon, and the courtyard and surrounding castle dissolved. Suddenly she could see the black city hanging over them, a scar on the eerie landscape of the fade.  
Cole reappeared in a flash as he sank both daggers into the back of the monster. A spray of ichor covered him as he leaped back, preparing to make another strike.  
Dorian unleashed a harshly bright bolt of lightning directly into the creature's torso - the electricity crackled over it before earthing itself into the ground. Evelyn's hand, an inferno of fire, thrust forward, the burning heat searing through the air and landing right on target at the creature's feet.  
It screeched again, and seemed to take off from the ground, spinning through the air over their heads and landing high above on the ramparts of the castle, out of reach of swords and knives. It drew its hand back, mimicking Evelyn's move, and just in time she cast a protective barrier over Cullen as the creature's flames exploded around him. He was knocked unsteady, but recovered and ran up the stone steps after the creature, close behind Cole who reached it as Dorian's blast of cold seemed to pin it in place, icicles dripping from its arms.  
Cole stabbed it again, and as Cullen swung his sword with all his might, it seemed the joint attack achieved what a single attack would not and shattered the demon, and all the world along with it.

Evelyn stood leaning over her balcony, staring down at the lights below her. Their return to Skyhold - merely waking in her bedchamber after the death of the demon - had seemed anticlimactic in comparison to her previous two visits to the fade. Josephine, relief on her face and barely suppressed tears in her eyes, had all but run down the stairs to the great hall to pass the word that the Inquisitor lived. The cheers had echoed through the castle like thunder, and Evelyn had smiled to hear them. Already further ballads were being written, for now it seemed their Herald truly was invincible.  
Only the four of them truly knew how close she had come to total defeat. And only she knew - really knew, not just feared - what would happen if they failed to defeat Corypheus.  
Shuddering again, the Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, looked down at her sleeping Inquisition and knew that even if it required the sacrifice of every man, woman and child in the castle, that sacrifice must be made. He must be stopped.   
But she would see as many through as she could.


End file.
